


Anatomical Accuracy

by Fayina (Dayea)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, College/University, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Multi, Mutual Pining, Napping Otabear, Painting, Pre-Relationship, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-06 01:30:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10322435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dayea/pseuds/Fayina
Summary: Yuri has a secret talent in drawing, and he'd be damned if Otabek finds out about his shameful collection of the Kazakh's portraits. Oh and his skype call with Mila and Sara is getting out of hand.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! So I should be updating my other story, but I just need to write this for it has been bugging me for a long time. I do hope I won't offend anyone with the content, if you are, I'm sorry it wasn't my intention to. Anyway, like Yuri, I'm procrastinating as well, I have an exam on Saturday and I haven't studied. As you can see from my summary, I'm not at my best right now. 
> 
> So moving on ... enjoy?

Only a fool would believe that they have _completely_ figured out Yuri Plisetsky. Although a lot of people would try, but this kid also has plenty of underhanded tactics, and his _seemingly_ brash nature is nothing more than a trick to pass off his calculating self. He’s very ambitious with talent to boot, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t have to work hard and make compromises along the way.

 

Contrary to what most believes, he doesn’t have it easy… but being sneaky doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It’s a skill you have to develop when you decide to live a life where people feel entitled to know everything about you. Sure he’s not helping through being so active on social media sites (or is it?), but he’s allowed to keep a few things to himself right?

 

Well one of the lesser-known fact about Yuri is he’s very passionate about art. That’s a somehow give away fact to be honest but, it’s a something most people tend to overlook since they mostly focus on him being an athlete. But you can’t separate art in skating besides, art is everywhere – it’s a self-expression, and it’s not that kind of art he’s trying to not show people.

 

He’s good at drawing.

 

Or rather, he has become good at it, if the people who occasionally commission his works through an anonymous account online are to go by.

 

Human body, its motion, fluidity and rigidity, the emotions and feelings conveyed through shapes, curves, and lines, they all look enthralling to him. The connection he feels with his subject, not through direct encounter, is immortalized through the sketches on a paper. The story he tells through pictures, and the tales he’d rather not share behind those pretty faces.

 

Drawing became the kind of talent that he just wants to keep for himself, like those stories that authors only kept for their selves.

 

Unlike skating, it’s not a talent he’s readily gifted at. He actually had to practice plenty, making him more proud of it because he built it up himself from almost …nothing. There are kids who have this good hand-eye coordination and sure they need practice too, because no one really came out of the womb being magnificent at things, but not Yuri. Yuri wasn’t blessed with excellent manual dexterity, and he sucked on scaling.

As a child, his stick figures are barely recognizable. His color coordination is disastrous, but his grandfather just tells him he’s creatively unique that way. He didn’t also give it much priority like skating, he didn’t sign up on classes and all that things. He settles on affordable, almost cheap, materials. But it’s the skill, not the material that makes a masterpiece, he keeps telling himself that.

 

His first drawing was of him and his grandfather, it’s still pinned on their refrigerator, grandpa insisting they keep it. He’s secretly grateful his grandpa did, and every time his eyes stray on that old, colorful piece of paper, he can’t help but smile fondly – reminiscing that one sunny afternoon when his grandfather gifted him a new set of color pencils. Scent of wood and wax on a firm blue box, crisp white paper rough beneath his chubby fingers.

 

He practiced; tracing the pictures on the newspaper ‘till eventually he starts copying them. Every time he draws a face of a criminal, he imagines himself to be one of those kickass police sketch artist. Time came when he memorized the features of politicians and actors whose faces often grace the morning papers, that he needs no reference photo anymore.

 

The first complete portrait, which he considers beautiful, was that of Mila. As a child, Yura thought Mila was beautiful especially when she’s skating. Her fiery red hair is a stark contrast on the still frost, she’s a force to be reckoned in ice and she looks the part. Her grace is unlike most female skater, there’s no such thing as _‘too strong’_ but Mila is coming close.

The portrait was a gift for her senior debut, sealed in a simple brown envelope since he can’t afford a fancy one. It wasn’t signed but Yuri is aware that Mila knows it’s from him. She just doesn’t acknowledge his little hobby loudly, which Yuri is grateful for. On a rare occurrence that the blond visits her room, he’d see she framed the sketch, and it sits innocently on her dresser.

 

Yuri often keeps a small journal with him. It’s camouflaged as one of his school notebooks so no one pays attention to it. He’d stay on cafés occasionally to sketch that college student cramming for their finals, caffeine addled gaze intense on the text in front, the cup of coffee he’s been served with, the employees’ no nonsense face when customers complain about their misspelled name, and the chill old lady at the far back who just comes every Wednesday afternoon to enjoy a nice cup of sweetened coffee and occasionally a pastry.

He’s sit on park benches because it’s a good place to observe pigeons and children. He’s go out with his friends, and commit to his memory whenever he sees a random stranger who tells more story with their body, than their words.

 

He’s collected a sizeable collection of sketchbooks, all brimming with pictures of his friends. He’s posted some online, and quite glad when his friends repost his work, while not knowing the artist is nearer than they can imagine. Anonymity provided him honest feedbacks. People won’t hold back in commenting on his work, and he appreciates that.

 

When he moved to America to study college, where Viktor and Yuuri followed him to be his coach and choreographer, he started dabbling with colors. You’d think that the extra school load, and training would halt him to his creative endeavor, but having his own apartment gave him the liberty to scatter around his materials, leave his sketchbook around, unlike hiding it beneath his bed before, paintbrush littering his table, and paint smudged on his arms.

There’s a glass cup designated for _‘paint water’_ on his shelf, and there’s always a lingering scent of acrylic in his place. He’s half-tempted to unleash his ideas on the walls to be honest; he just might one of these days, making him quite thankful that the lovebirds respected his decision to not move in with them. On his free days, he’d scour art stores and quickly learned where to get best supplies at reasonable prices since art materials aren’t really included in his budget. Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop him from treating himself a nice set of soft pastels on a good day.

 

This artistic freedom, however, came to a stop when his best friend moved in with him. It made sense since Beka’s also studying in the same university when he decided to be smart and pursue a post-graduate study. How he managed that in between training and occasionally working, Yuri wouldn’t know. But he has to sweep all traces of his artistic capabilities, back under his bed so Beka wouldn’t know.

Beka shouldn’t also know that he’s been Yuri’s muse for a few years now, and his collection of the Kazakh’s portraits is shamefully plenty. Yuri can’t help it, his friend is aesthetically pleasing.

It was a challenge drawing Otabek’s usually stoic expression and convey emotions on it, while preserving the man’s air of mystery. It’s a shame really because his friend is very expressive, you just have to look for the right place to see it. It took time before the young Russian was able to line his lips properly to get that exact micro-smile, to catch the right glint in his eye, perfect his jaw-line. He took extra care learning how to draw his hair properly when it’s being tossed by the wind every time he takes a ride on his motorcycle. The blond took special care on keeping a particular sketchbook dedicated only for Otabek. He has drawn the man in every way possible after all.

 

 

“So how’s your training going there? Any new developments on the golden couple?” Mila, whose face currently occupies majority of Yuri’s laptop screen asked. He’s currently plopped in the middle of his bed, books and notes scattered around him; he has to review for a quiz anyway.

 

“Viktor and Yuuri are still disgusting as always. I think they’re planning something sinister for my program, they still haven’t told me a thing.” He muttered, dejectedly eyeing his barely legible notes.

 

“Aren’t you going to pick your theme this year?” the Russian woman asked curiously.

 

“No. I wanted to do something different so I asked them to surprise me. I’m starting to regret it already.”

 

“Your fault then.” Yuri resisted his urge to roll his eyes, and say _‘duh’._

 

“What about you? How’s engaged life treating you?”

 

“About that, I may have postponed proposal at the moment.” Mila explained sheepishly, earning him a frustrated groan from the blond.

 

“I can’t believe you chickened out, again!”

 

“No hear me out,” more groan. “I have a good reason this time.” the female skater amended.

 

Yuri looked at Mila dead in the eye, not really threatening anyone with pencil and pen tucked on his ponytail, before saying. “Yes, because last time, the sunset isn’t perfect enough, the sun didn’t hit her skin the right color. What is it this time Mila? Birds didn’t fly in your scenic beach proposal?”

 

“It wasn’t a beach proposal this time, it was supposed to be just a simple dinner.” The older skater stated exasperatedly. “But Michele and Emil announced their wedding, we can’t steal their thunder. Sara was so happy for those two, plus I don’t want her to think that I proposed just because her brother’s getting married already.”

 

“I get you, but I can’t believe those two are getting married before you.”

 

“I can’t believe it either,” Mila remarked with a small chuckle. “but you know, lots of booze and a chapel in Vegas, you’re a married man by the end of the night, or so what those two wants to tell everyone.”

 

“So they’re basically married now, what’s this next wedding then? For formality? Why is this not all over the news? Or the Internet?” the young skater frowned.

 

“They’ve been keeping it low. But I still believe it didn’t happen that way. Mikey is way too romantic and Emil is way too sensible for an drunken wedding.”

 

“There’s the key word Mila, _drunk_.” Yuri deadpanned.

 

“Yeah but, remember last year, when they took a trip around Europe and Emil won’t shut up about chapels, and Michele would blush profusely afterwards?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I think it happened there. Nope, I’m pretty sure about this one! Can you just imagine, them in France pledging their selves together, regardless of the stupid things they do-“

 

“You’re hopeless Mila, and before you spew more romantic shit, I’m gonna stop you now. I need an intact head tomorrow. Besides, why would they lie about getting married?”

 

“Maybe they want to preserve the romance just between the two of them. I can actually picture them being in this recluse chapel in whatever European country allows gay marriage, just the two of them… Mikey walking down the aisle-“

 

“Why does it have to be Michele who walks down the aisle?”

 

“Because it’s fun imagining him red in the face the whole time, plus Emil’s shit-eating grin is perfect for the groom who waits by the altar. Also, can you imagine Emil _walking_ down the aisle? That guy would sprint in excitement!”

 

“That’s a bad reason and you know it.”

 

“Shush! So anyway, Mikey walks down the aisle, they stand facing the other, a stained glass window somewhere there. The scent of summer and its breeze enveloping them, birds fluttering around chirping merrily. The sun, streaming through the window, giving them an ethereal glow-“

 

“Mila, please stop. This is sounding like a bad romance story, why are you even imagining your future-brother-in-law’s wedding so vividly. Do you have a fantasy that Sara should be worried about?”

 

“It’s not that,” Mila pouted. “but I really think they put more thought on getting married than what they tell us. You know those two, trying to keep a cool façade.”

 

“Yeah, because a Vegas wedding is so cool?”

 

“Oh come on Yuri! Humor me on this one. By the way, how was your date with Otabek?”

 

“It wasn’t a date, and you know it.” Yuri retorted defensively, a slight tinge of bitterness lacing his voice, earning him a sympathetic look from Mila, and Sara who just joined them.

 

“Oh Yurio, you’ve been harboring a shamefully big crush on the guy for as long as either of us would care to remember! I can’t understand how you can live together and resist just crashing your lips on his!”

 

“Because not everything is a paperback fantasy Mila. He’s.not.gay.” he reiterated through clenched teeth. Madly scribbling an important bit on the side of his book to remind himself later.

 

“You know, I just might consider writing yours.” The Italian piped in.

 

“Thank you Sara, but I don’t think anyone would read it.”

 

“Au contraire, your fans would love it.” Sara declared with a glint on her eyes that Yuri would rather look out for. “Did I tell you my AU fanfiction of you guys earned me the highest number of reviews? Imagine if I write the real thing. Ohh that tension though…”

 

“I can’t believe we’re merely amusements to you.” Yuri commented wryly, too tired for a pointless anger towards the Italian woman.

 

“How can you even be sure he isn’t gay? He could be gay or bisexual for all you know, and you’re just wasting precious time not cuddling him. Did I tell you Otabae is a good cuddler? He’s soft, and warm, and firm and-”

 

Both Yuri and Sara would roll their eyes and Yuri cut her off before it escalates to something else. “We get it Mila, you dated him once, we can agree that he’s amazing, but I don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate you waxing poetry about your ex. And who said we don’t cuddle?”

 

“Platonic cuddle!”

 

“Big difference!” the blond retorted sarcastically.

 

“Don’t worry Yuri, I’m more jealous that I didn’t get the chance to hug him myself.” Sara would say teasingly at which Yuri would fix her a glare before telling her to back off. “He’s a fine specimen, no?” she would motion at his opened sketchbook with a rough draft of Otabek beside him. It’s not yet finished, but you can clearly see who the portrait would end to. Yuri would quickly shut the book close, a lovely shade of red decorating his cheeks.

 

“You didn’t see that.” He would mutter, as he tries to tidy his scattered paper only to just pile them at one side, and scatter them again when he has to find his statistics notes.

 

The Italian woman would just nod conspiringly “Of course.” Damn this woman and her vigilance. Not long after she dated Mila, Sara saw Yuri’s little gift from years ago, caught him doodling one too many times, making him slip a couple of times on his knowledge in art, it doesn’t help that she’s taking a degree in art, and has persuaded Yuri to show her some of his work. She’s given him tips how to improve, and helped him when he’s shopping for materials. Mila’s more of a silent spectator, giving comments when she deem necessary, but doesn’t get too tangled on their crazy.

 

So much for keeping a secret.

 

“So anyway Yuri, we’re getting off tangent-“

 

Three knocks on Yuri’s open door alerted the young Russian and his friends that his housemate has arrived. Beka was standing at his room’s threshold with an armful of books from the library. He’s currently taking a MA on education, and goodness help Beka’s future students. This man is brutal enough when he tutors Yuri. It doesn't help he has a sinfully, deep, smooth voice. Try sitting on a three-hour lecture with that, without being lulled to sleep. “Hey Yuri, I just finished my shift at the café, picked you some of your overly sweetened beverage by the way.”

 

“Did you draw me cat too?” the young skater asked critically, pertaining to the delightful little bit of art added on the drink.

 

The older man cracked a small smile. “Of course, the cat is the most essential part of the drink.” Beka followed.

 

The blond nod seriously “Good, I’ll be out in a while.” He gestured at the couple enthusiastically waving on his screen, which Beka failed to notice first hand. He gave them a fond smile and returned the greeting before walking back to his own room.

 

“So he brings you coffee now?” Mila pointed out.

 

“Shut up Mila, good friends bring coffee to their sleep deprived friends all the time.”

 

“You don’t even like coffee.” She pointed out.

 

“Yeah, well you learn to cope when you have papers to finish, and you don’t want to see the same devil-incarnate professor next semester.”

 

“I can’t believe you don’t see the way he looks at you!” Sara exclaimed. “You two are so obtuse about each other’s attraction it makes me cringe!”

 

“I don’t want to lose him. He’s my best friend first and foremost.” The young Russian explained in a low voice, in case his housemate is still nearby, looking up from the text he’s reading. “I’d rather be cuddling with him platonically forever than nothing. Now, can we not talk about this?”

 

“Erghhh! Not this speech again…” the Russian woman groaned in frustration. “I swear-“

 

“Yura?” Otabek, once again popped his head on Yuri’s door. “Where are your physics notes so I can draft you a reviewer for later?”

 

The blond, who was too busy writing footnotes on his book, absentmindedly felt for the familiar thick, rectangular item before handing it to his housemate, completely missing the horrified look from the people on his computer. “Here. Physics notes are marked with orange sticky notes.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

A couple of seconds passed in silence, Yuri hearing nothing more than flipping of pages. He was about the address the two again, thinking that Beka has left the room when he heard him clear his throat and say the words that will drain all the Russian’s blood from his body. “I don’t think this will help you in physics, but while I am flattered by these masterpiece, I’m quite concerned on the accuracy of detail and offended because we both know my abdominal muscles are more defined than this Yura.” 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thank you guys! Let me know what you think, leave me a comment, constructive criticism, rant, it's all welcome here.
> 
> Have a good day/night!
> 
> I don't know if I'm writing more for this. Perhaps a few scenes of Yuri trying to draw a sleeping Beka, or him in his early years trying to draw his friend, something like that.


	2. Don't Poke the Sleeping Bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I took this opportunity where I have another exam this Saturday, but thankfully it's something I've studied before, and I have two-days study time for next weeks tests and stuff... I swear, every time I go to my microbio class there's always some sort of test.
> 
> I was seriously considering on ending this story where I left it, my sister said it's a good idea to end it there too. But I saw this tumblr post about them being models on art class, and the student in front is on verge of crying because they can't get the right shading and he's running out of paint. Good paint is pricey guys T-T I haven't been doing it for long, but my acrylics are running out and I don't know whether to buy the big tubes for the long run, or the set of small ones like I did before. 
> 
> So anyway, if you see any inaccuracies in this story, please just overlook it for the sake of the story, or you can tell me and I'll fix it. I don't know if this will live up to your expectations, but well... anyway I didn't expect this much love for this story. I'm very thankful for all kudos, bookmarks, and comments. Your comments guys, your comments are a pleasure to read, thank you so, so much! I'm sorry if it took a while for me to respond to them.
> 
> So here you go, Enjoy!

“Those aren’t physics notes.” The Russian responded bluntly, having a feeling of an out-of-body experience, because there’s no way this is actually happening right?

 

Right?

 

“No they aren’t.” the dark-haired man calmly clarified for him. Oh wow! So the faint feeling isn’t imaginary after all.

 

“Right… have you considered artist interpretation?” he tried, _tried_ so _so_ hard to sound cool, but by the look on Otabek’s face, he is failing spectacularly.

 

“Yura, if anything I know you for, you always strive for accuracy and perfection.”

 

“How sure are you that those are mine?” the blond bit back defensively. Looking anywhere for a graceful exit out of this one. “They could be Sara’s for all you know.” He pointed at the alarmed Italian on his screen, her girlfriend barely holding back her amusement over the scene unfolding before them. “Besides, those are old drawings. They’re before-” when Yuri realized his mistake, he kept mumbling ‘ _I shouldn’t have said that.’_ to himself, that tipped his former rink-mate to her edge.

 

Otabek was the only one smart enough to hold back his tongue, and refrain himself from saying ‘ _so there’s more?’_ because honestly, he wants to see more. The drawings are magnificent, not for the reason that they feature him; no it’s quite unnerving to see himself captured so dreamily on a paper, but this is a whole new side of his best friend that he’s excited to know.

 

“I think this is our cue to go.” Sara tried to politely say, sparing an apologetic and encouraging look at Yuri. She was about to press the end button only to have her Russian partner slap her hand away.

 

“Hey! We can’t go now. This is getting interesting!” thankfully, neither Otabek nor Yuri is paying attention to them. Both sucked in their own feeling of confusion and mortification.

 

“Yura-”

 

Yuri looked at his friend, wide-eyed, unmindful of the bickering couple from his laptop and the sound of dropped call. He reached out for his actual school notebook and pressed it on his friend, plucked the sketchbook from his loosened grip, walked out of the room to grab the aforementioned coffee. Walked back in, to push out his still dazed friend from his room, and shut the door. Locked it too, for good measure.

 

That was two weeks ago.

 

Two weeks

 

And after that unfortunate circumstance, Otabek hasn’t seen a lock of his blond hair, or heard a word from his friend except when they’re at the rink. And those too were merely for polite talk, filled with strained exchanges.

 

“He won’t talk to me.” The bear-loving skater reiterated to his friends who he was currently conversing through a video-call. Mila and Sara, who were at the moment in Italy, pityingly watched as the male skater tiredly rubbed his face, weary eyes longing for a good sleep. His whole demeanor looked defeated and drained, after having school and life crash down on him for the past weeks.

 

“He would cook breakfast in the morning, leave it on the counter with a sticky note.” Beka would hear a faint comment of _‘ohh, so it’s Yuri who’s in charge of breakfast.’_ from the background courtesy of Michele who decided it would be a good idea to be nosey, followed by _‘how domestic, we should delegate chores too Mikey!’_ from a casually passing Emil before they’re shooed away from Sara’s room.

 

“I’m sorry about that, please continue.” The violet-eyed beauty gently prompts, only to have her girlfriend interrupt their friend once again.

 

“You seriously need a good moisturizer Beks!” Mila remarked after a close inspection of the Kazakh’s face, her own face filling his screen, receiving her harsh glare from her partner, and an even more distraught look from her friend. “Buuuuttt that’s the least of your concerns now, though Yuri would surely have some good recommendations, continue.”

 

At the mention of Yuri, Otabek would let out a worn-out sigh before speaking. “I’m sorry I’m bothering you guys, I’m just so sick of seeing sticky notes everywhere.”

 

“Yeah… no kidding.” The two simultaneously said pertaining to the picture of their apartment littered with sticky notes sent earlier.

 

“Not only it is a total waste of resources, not to mention it’s not exactly eco-friendly. But I miss my best friend. He’s barely home, and he’d even go lengths of going to school very early and coming late just to avoid me. He might as well just tell me he don’t want me anymore. He even locks his room now.”

 

“Uhuh? Can you blame him? His well ‘ _guarded’_ secrets, revealed in the most unbecoming circumstance, not even an hour apart from each other. Just give him space for the mean time.” Sara directed.

 

“Yeah, the kid probably thinks you’re packing to leave him now.” Mila pitched in.

 

Otabek would give them a look of genuine concern and confusion before asking. “Why would I do that?”

 

The Russian skater rolled her eyes before responding. “I dunno, ask Yuri. It’s as if you don’t know him. The kid can come up with the worst-case scenarios in his head. I mean, his long time crush just found out-ow!” Mila would rub the sore spot where Sara elbowed her, and turn to her partner, who did nothing but glare daggers at her since this whole fiasco started. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

 

“Yeah, you shouldn’t. It’s not your place.” Sara chided, before turning her whole attention back to the male skater. “But anyway Otabek,” she started, accent thick and voice serious. “If you’re having a hard time with your current set-up, just imagine how it is for Yuri. He’s already afraid that things will go awkward between the two of you, I mean having a crush on your best friend is bad enough, but falling in love with your straight best friend… err, let’s just say disastrous is the least word it will be described in Yuri’s books.”

 

“You’re straight right? Beks?” the Russian skater tried confirming the suspicion once and for all.

 

“Biromantic, demisexual actually.” He responded with no hesitation, causing the two women to shriek in excitement.

 

“Oohhhh… so our baby Yurio stands a chance?” Mila followed, eyes bright and bubbling with anticipation.

 

Otabek once again shot them a confused glance. “What do you mean if he stands a chance? There was no competition to begin with.” He stated, earning him another round of frenzied shrieking from the two, that Beka was starting to get worried about their vocals. “I thought I didn’t have a chance.”

 

“Did you tell him that?” Sara probed.

 

“I asked him on a date.”

 

“So it was a date!” Mila remarked enthusiastically. Another round of frantic cheers erupted between the two of them.

 

Otabek was starting to get scared. “What did he think it was?”

 

“A friendly outing?” Sara shot.

 

“He thought you were just being nice.” Mila clarified.

 

“Like I said, you both are very oblivious, it makes me cringe. Did you use the word _‘hang-out’_ when you asked? Because I would totally understand why he didn’t get the hint.”

 

“Yeah, you have this strong bro-game, going on. And honestly this _‘not wanting to lose friend’_ bull is ruining your chances, because while the answer will bite you in the face, you’d still pull the friend excuse to get out of it. It’s not always bad, but in your case, it just makes all grown ups who sees you two want to cry, even children actually.

 

So here’s what you’re going to do.” Mila started conspiringly. “You’re gonna march your sexy ass on his room, and kiss him fervently. If that’s not straightforward enough, then I don’t know what else will deliver the message.” She finished with a triumphant glint on her eyes.

 

“What’s with you, and your obsession with them kissing?” her partner would ask, a bit miffed.

 

“Yurio uses this flavored lip balm, you don’t notice it very often, but it’s flavoured and it’s tasty!” the redhead explained, oblivious of her girlfriend’s disgruntlement. “Do hope that he’s using it when you kiss him. Is the weather the skin-flaking kind? If it is, then you’re sure he has it on because his lips chap quickly.”

 

“Have you kissed Yurio?”

 

“You’ve kissed Yuri?”

 

The two chorused, in varying degrees of shock, curiosity, and bafflement.

 

“No you nitwits! I’m not kissing my brother! I often borrow it from him during competitions. It’s that gloss you love so much.” The directed her last statement at Sara.

 

Upon realization, the Italian began smiling playfully. “Ohh… that gloss. Yeah Otabek, do kiss Yurio. That stuff is good!”

 

The man would once again, sigh in frustration, and bury his fingers in his hair. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you.”

 

“We know!” Sara sounded too enthusiastic about it. “Isn’t it great? While we’re at it, do you think this eye shadow goes well with a wine colored dress? Or this one?” she queried, switching palettes of make-up on the camera.

 

“The second one, then blend it with the color on the third one from the left.” The male skater replied plainly. “It complements your eyes better. Then apply some mascara, and a thin layer of eye-liner.”

 

“My! Beka,” the woman remarked dramatically. “You’re good at this! You have some secret guilty pleasure we should know?” she commented teasingly, as she grabs a tube of primer and starts applying the product.

 

“I have three sisters, all of which has asked me to braid their hair at some point in their lives. Two has asked me to paint their toes when I was six. You’re going out?”

 

“Yeah, Sara and I are having a dinner out with the family.”

 

“Wow! You’re a better brother than Mikey. I can’t even buy a lipstick without him spewing; _‘You’re too beautiful for rouge.’_ Seriously!”

 

“He’s just looking out for you.” Beka amended.

 

“Don’t I know it? I love my brother, but he tops Viktor and Chris at being extra sometimes.”

 

“Good thing his attention’s diverted now.”

 

Violet eyes sparkled in excitement. “Umhm! Good thing Emil enjoys it too.”

 

Otabek heard their locks open, and not long later the sound of the door closing. “Yuri’s here.” He informed the two, who halted their preparation upon realizing what their friend has done.

 

“Did you just… did you just purposely ditch your class just so you could corner the kitten because he knows your schedule by heart, bless that kid he cares too much, and probably knows you shouldn’t be home by this time?” Mila queried, blue eyes narrowing at him making Beka smirk.

 

“Well it’s not ditching when you impress your professor on you last report, that he decided to exempt you for this exam.”

 

Both woman gasps. “You sneaky, sneaky bastard.”

 

“Talk to you later, oh and I owe you.” He gave them a small smile, which the two happily returned.

 

“Oh I already have a way for you to repay us.” The Italian woman impishly uttered, making her partner roll her lovely cornflower eyes.

 

“What is it?” Beka asked, rightfully starting to get nervous.

 

“A movie night! Snuggled on the couch with you.” She declared too cheerfully, earning her another puzzled look from the man. “Oh come on guys! I want to experience the legendary Otabear hug!”

 

“Otabear hug might get exclusive soon.” Her partner jestingly called out from the other side of the room.

 

 

Yuri was nervous, rightfully so. He hasn’t said a word to Beka since the man found out about his secret hobby… and attraction. Maybe not the attraction, I mean he also draws his other friends, just not a whole drawing book of them. But Beka doesn’t know that, so who knows what the man is thinking about the whole situation.

 

He hasn’t packed his bags yet, so that’s a good sign. And he’s still eating Yuri’s food, so nothing drastic yet.

 

Maybe… maybe he’s overreacting, and he’s making it worse by ignoring his friend. It only makes him look guilty of something, which he totally is, but Beka doesn’t need to know that.

 

The blond was leisurely removing his shoes by their threshold and changed to a pair of soft fluffy slippers, a habit he adapted from Yuuri, thinking of what he’d say to his friend later.

 

Only, said friend is at home when he shouldn’t be, currently walking towards their kitchen to presumably prepare a snack. Yuri stole a quick glance at his housemate, gods he miss him. Otabek must have sensed him staring, so when he looked up to stare at the blond, it was like their first meeting all over again.

 

…Awkward…

 

“What are you looking at?” the feline loving skater blurted to cut the tension.

 

“We need to talk Yuri.” The man answered plainly. The Russian just nodded in agreement.

 

“I’ll just change, be back in a bit.”

 

 

When he came back out, Otabek has prepared him a sandwich and was eating his own. Yuri settled on the seat in front of him after grabbing the juice box, and poured himself a drink. “So…um.” He cleared his throat. Better get this out. “So now that you know, c-can I paint you?” the Russian tiger asked in a small voice.

 

It took a while before the other responded. Tried maintaining eye contact but failed, and braced for the inevitable rejection.

 

“It would be my pleasure.” was Otabek’s straight answer. Yuri would look up, askance. He would study his friend’s stoic expression, no signs of mockery or teasing there.

 

“You don’t find it creepy at all? Some people would probably think I’m a creep by this time.”

 

“If everyone would think that way, we’ll never have songs, poems, art pieces, dedicated to immortalizing the moment of beauty in an artist’s eyes,” the dark-haired man responded while dusting the crumbs off his fingers. “Yuri, you are an artist. While I’m still baffled why you chose me, I am confident that your intentions are of no malice.”

 

 _You are so beautiful Beka, how can you not see it?_ “So you’d do it?”

 

“Of course. Where do you want me?”

 

“You think we’re doing it now?” the blond asked, shocked by how easy things went.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“No, no. I think you should rest first; you look like you’re about to fall. We’re starting next week after our exams.”

 

The older man just nodded, making his way to his bedroom to finally have a restful sleep after weeks.

 

“Oh, and Beka?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“We’re getting you a good moisturizer, and cucumber for those dark circles under your eyes.”

 

 

 

Yuri led the older man to his room and opened his curtains, the windows in his room have a good view and its size is perfect that light fills the room when he opens it. It’s still early, and he hasn’t been around buying proper lights for painting so the daylight will do.

 

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon; they just got back from the rink for a bit of practice with the golden couple. Yuri finally having an idea for his next program, and it’s not as bad as he expected.

 

“So what should I do?” Otabek queried when his friend motioned him to lie on the white sheets, which he just laid out, and watched as Yuri continued to set-up.

 

“I want you to take a nap.” the blond instructed, pulling brushes and palette knives out of their hiding.

 

Beka would look at him, puzzled by the strange request. “A what?”

 

“A nap. Go to sleep, close your eyes. Catch some Z’s. Hit the sack. Get fourty winks. Hibernate.”

 

“Errr… okay?” he conceded, preparing to lie down.

 

When Yuri noticed that it was still baffling for his friend, he decided to explain. “I’ve always wanted to paint you sleeping. You’re so beautiful when you sleep, but you never see it. I want to preserve it for you.

 

While I enjoy drawing your eyes, they’re very expressive-”

 

“Most people would tell you otherwise.”

 

Yuri would respond with a smile. “Well I’m not most people. I’m asking to paint you asleep aren’t I?” Beka can’t help but be charmed by the self-confident smirk on his lips, like he’s pretty sure not a lot has thought of this before. “Anyway, we’ll be painting you awake next time.”

 

Otabek would raise a teasing brow at his friend, who was gently guiding him to a comfortable, yet strategically choreographed position. “So there’s a next time?”

 

“Shut up.” The blond would mutter, cheeks taking an interesting shade of red.

 

“Do you want me to strip?” he asked offhandedly, making the blond’s brow crease.

 

“To what?”

 

“Strip, you know, nude art. You seem pretty good at human body.”

 

“You don’t seem embarrassed by this.” He observed with amusement in his voice.

 

“I know this is nowhere near sexual Yura.” Otabek responded with a smirk. “You’ll be staring at my collarbones later, on the verge of tears because you can’t seem to get the right blend.”

 

“Such trust on me.” the younger skater shot mockingly, making the other’s smirk wider.

 

Shedding off his shirt, the Kazakh skater resumed his prone position, and closed his eyes to try to relax. “Draw me like one of your French girls?” he mumbled, making the other choke at his own saliva.

 

“Don’t ever say that again.” the other replied through coughs, pencil in hand, preparing for the first stroke on a fresh canvas.

 

“Do you want me in a more alluring position?” the Kazakh dark horse continues teasingly.

 

“Relaxed position Beka, relaxed! No one actually sleeps in an alluring position.”

 

“I can make it work you know.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It took them almost a year to finish the oil panting, which they called _‘sleeping bear’_. They immediately sent a photo of it to Mila and Sara, who were both very happy and amazed by it. It was beautiful, but not perfect. It can improve, like Sara said since this is Yuri’s first time, but they’ll be lying if they won’t say that they’re proud of it.

 

During the process of doing it, Otabek would randomly wake up sometimes, with Yura sitting in front of him, supplies scattered around him. After the initial incident, he has taken to napping on places Yuri would have easy access to, like on the couch, or most of the times on Yuri’s bed just so the blond won’t have to haul his things out.

 

Sometimes they’d sit together and Yuri would sketch him. His best friend is still secretive about his talent, but he’s comfortable enough to leave his some of his things around, and walk around the house with paint smudges on his limbs and cheeks, sometime on his hair too.

 

“Will this be a normal occurrence?” he asked one day when he woke up with Yuri aggressively attacking the canvas. Otabek wonders what part he’s working on now.

 

“I actually have a reference photo from the first time, I just like being around my subject when I work.” lime eyes would look up from at him. “I’m just thankful you sleep like a log, so I don’t feel to guilty waking you.”

 

“Hey, I get excuse for extra nap time because of this, so it’s a win-win situation for us.”

 

“Get some work done Beka.”

 

“I already did. Sociology reviewer, blue paperclip on top of my table. Economics, green paperclip.”

 

“How do you still have time to do all this?”

 

“Unlike most people, when the teacher delegates a whole month for a project, I actually do it within the month, not the night before the deadline. So by the end of the semester, I actually have my papers and projects done and ready to be submitted.”

 

“You are impossible.” The blond muttered.

 

When the blond didn’t comment again, Otabek turned to study his friend who was working intently on what he loves. “Tell me that portrait isn’t staying in your room.”

 

“The painting won’t stay in my room.” the blond responded quickly, eyes not trailing off the canvas.

 

“You know, if you just want to wake everyday next to a sleeping me, you could just ask me you know?”

 

“I will be disowning you soon.” verdant eyes narrowing, hand working swiftly on the painting in front of him.

 

“It’s a good day today isn’t it?”

 

“Yes.” the blond answered absentmindedly.

 

“Your finals will be over by the week.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Viktor and Yuuri won’t be back ‘till next week?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You love me right?”

 

“Yes.” The Russian skater responded; mind still preoccupied by his work.

 

Otabek smirked “So are you going on a date with me or not?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good.” Triumphant smile on his lips, the dark-haired skater settled on a more comfortable position while snuggling on Yuri’s pillow, smelling the faint scent of his shampoo. “No take backs.”

 

“Wait, what?”

 

“I said, I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BONUS!
> 
> "Why can't I walk down the aisle this time? You walked down the aisle last time!"
> 
> "Because admit it, I do a good job at it!"
> 
> "Fine! I really want to wear a veil though." the blue-eyed skater conceded forlornly. "But you're right, I'd rather be surprised as you walk down again." he continued with a smile for his Italian lover.
> 
> "E-Emil..."
> 
>  
> 
> BONUS!!
> 
> "You're right guys, he's warm, and firm, and comfortable..." the violet-eyed beauty commented drowsily as she snuggled next to the Kazakh skater who had his arms around her. 
> 
> "I'm here you know." came his deep baritone reply.
> 
> "I love you Beka, platonically of course. I'll take you back to Russia if I can. Maybe borrow you from Yuri once in a while during winter." when she felt something vibrating on her thigh, Sara fished out her phone and debated whether to accept the call from her brother.
> 
> "Sara!"
> 
> "Hello Mikey!"
> 
> "Is that Otabek with you? Oi! Altin, stop molesting my sister. She's in a loving, commited relationship, you should be ashamed of yourself!" the Italian ranted off, triggering a round of snickers from the Russian pair beside them.
> 
> "Please, if there's molesting happening here, it won't be from Beks." Mila muttered under her breath.
> 
> "I heard you!" her girlfriend called out from her comfortable position. "Although I'm not mad by the accusation."
> 
> From the video-call, they can hear Emil 'Ohhh... the Otabear hug!' and 'Not you too!' from Michele.
> 
> So much for a quiet movie night.
> 
>  
> 
> There you have it guys! I actually enjoyed writing this, and I'd honestly miss it. Thank you guys! Let me know what you think, leave me a comment, constructive criticism, rant, it's all welcome here.
> 
> Have a good day/night!
> 
> 'till next time!


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